


Quietus, Clangorus

by KickAir 8P (KickAir8P)



Category: Forever Knight, West Wing
Genre: Character Death Fix, Crossover, Crossover Pairing, Happy Ending, M/M, justified OOC behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KickAir8P/pseuds/KickAir%208P
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo McGarry.  He was brought across in 2006...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quietus, Clangorus

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of what (I’m hoping!) will be a set of three fics. The first is [The Offer by amand-r](http://amand-r.livejournal.com/244899.html) – read it first. Many thanks to [amand-r](http://amand-r.livejournal.com/) for allowing this sequel in the first place, for all her encouragement, and for betaing this thing. Thanks also to [GryphonRhi](http://gryphonrhi.livejournal.com/) for her insights into Roman culture and the Latin help. For anybody interested, I put the Latin translations at the end. All mistakes, bad choices, and wtf-bits are my own.
> 
> A note for Forever Knight fans: In the West Wing universe, the presidential elections are skewed two years off from our own. This story begins on Election Night, and Leo McGarry is the Democratic candidate for Vice President.
> 
> A note for West Wing fans: "The end is where we start from." "Death is just the beginning." "Be afraid. Be very afraid."
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own either The West Wing or Forever Knight.

  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/kickair8p/pic/0001gkdy)

 

 

**November 7, 2006 – Houston, Texas**

The nap had been a dismal failure, and Beth would be up to get him in ten minutes anyway. Leo washed his hands, splashed his face, and studied himself in the mirror. He looked like hell. If he’d realized how much worse an election was for the candidates, he never would’ve run.

He turned, and found LaCroix directly behind him.

“Woah! Are you _**trying**_ to give me another heart attack?”

“That will happen without my intervention, I’m afraid.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Leo, have you ever known me to ‘kid’?”

“I guess not.”

“You have mere minutes. If you called for help this instant, it would arrive too late to save you.”

Leo’s mind spun. LaCroix was most likely telling the truth – feelings he’d put down to election-night jitters were far too similar to right before his last heart attack. His life was over, as of now. He could spend what time he had left making his peace with God, or...

It’s not like he’d never considered it. Immortal, strong...and free, in ways that retirement couldn’t have given him, even if he’d ever been allowed to retire. The sacrifices he’d made over the years he’d made willingly, for causes he believed in. But they’d cost him his marriage, his health – maybe even his life.

As for life as a vampire, that probably had its own obligations, ones that LaCroix had never been very clear on. What he _**had**_ made clear was that a vampire was a killer. Not a soldier who killed for his country, but a predator who killed for himself.

He opened his mouth to preemptively say “Thanks, but no thanks.” What came out was “Okay.”

“I don’t wish to be pedantic, but later on I’d rather not have any question of consent. I won’t ask if you _**want**_ to be a vampire, since if that were the case you would have accepted my offer before now. Are you willing to live as a vampire, since that’s the only way you may continue to live?”

There it was in a nutshell: did he want to live? Of course. Was he willing to live off the blood, off of the _**lives**_ of others, willing to kill to live?

Cowardice wasn’t one of Leo’s flaws. He faced the ugly truth unflinchingly. “Yes.”

LaCroix eyes gleamed yellow and he struck. Leo gasped, but didn’t cry out. The fangs in his neck were no worse than an IV, but the arms around him were inhuman, unyielding, almost like being hugged by a statue. His heart pounded, his chest and left arm ached, and he wondered which would kill him first, the heart attack or the blood loss.

LaCroix’s lips moved rhythmically on his skin, and he could feel the blood leaving him, feel the hunger he was feeding, feel the length of LaCroix’s body against him. Lust and fear flashed over him, everything was clearer and sharper, and Leo recognized the I’m-gonna-die rush of a missile on his tail or his Weasel in a spin. He groaned – he wanted to do something, wanted to fight this, but it wasn’t something you could shoot, wasn’t something you could stymie or stalemate, there was nothing he could...nothing...

“Leo? Leo, drink. You must drink, Leo.”

There was blood in his mouth. He swallowed, but there was more. LaCroix’s blood, vampire blood...he reached up and grabbed the bleeding arm above him, locked his lips on the wound, and sucked. He kept swallowing until LaCroix pulled away from him. He heard something shatter, then there was cool tile under his cheek, and the prickle of tiny shards of glass pressing into his face and neck.

“Sleep well,” LaCroix said softly.

 

=======================

 

He dreamed of a doorway made of light, but he’d already made his choice. He turned away from it.

 

=======================

 

“Leo, wake up.”

And he was awake, completely awake, like flipping a light switch. LaCroix handed him his clothes, and a labcoat. “Give me your toe tag, and get dressed.”

He was wearing a toe tag – he was in a morgue, lying naked on a warm steel shelf. He rolled off, reached down and unlooped the tag, and handed it to LaCroix. It was easy, not a bit of pain in his joints or muscles – he hadn’t felt this fit since he was on active duty. He got dressed while LaCroix put the tag on an autopsied corpse and slung it onto his shelf.

“There is much you need to know – I’ll tell you everything. But while you’re a fledgling you must do as I say, for both our sakes.”

Leo just nodded. The room couldn’t be as warm as it seemed, and he could hear the bustle of the hospital above them, smell every corpse in the room. That last wasn’t as disturbing as it should’ve been. As LaCroix led him through the corridors, every step was a new experience, every corner revealed a new world.

He heard voices around the next corner, then the smell hit him – living bodies, rich blood under soft skin. His canines sharpened into fangs, and he had no trouble imagining what it would feel like to sink them into someone’s neck. He crouched a bit, ready to leap –

“You must not, not here. Patience – I know it’s difficult, I know what you need. All will be provided, but first we must escape.”

Leo turned on him and snarled, but all it took was LaCroix’s grip on his shoulder to hold him back. “You. Will. Not!”

It was right there, coming closer, everything he needed! He was so hungry, and they smelled so good, better than Johnny Walker Blue...but if he could keep from drinking that, he could keep from drinking this. Not for long, one day at a time – aw, hell _**no**_, one _**minute**_ at a time! One second at a time...and another...and another...okay. He straightened up, looked LaCroix in the eye, and gave him a curt nod. LaCroix gave him a measuring look, nodded back, and they continued down the corridor. Past the chattering med techs, up the stairwell, out a service door, and into the night.

 

=======================

 

A damned _**bright**_ night! It was just past sunset, but even through the low cloud cover the sky was bright as noon. They stripped off their labcoats and left them on the railing, then walked down the alley between the hospital and a storage facility, out onto the sidewalk, and down the next alley.

There were three people in the alley, two men arguing with each other and a woman backing away from them. Leo could smell them, as easily as he had the med techs in the hospital. A single pat on the back was all the encouragement he needed – he sped forward, covered thirty feet in an instant, and tackled one of the men. Behind him he heard the woman’s surprised squeak as he bit into the guy’s artery.

It was wonderful. It was a perfect steak, the finest liquor he’d ever tasted, the best sex of his life. He swallowed down the blood and it was all that and more – he knew this man, this drug dealer, knew his contempt for his customers, knew the smug satisfaction he took in selling stepped-down shit, knew his terror. The racing pulse practically forced the blood into Leo’s mouth, and Leo’s heartbeat sped up to match it. When it faltered he sucked at the wound, taking the last he could squeeze out.

He was still hungry. He looked up from the corpse and into the eyes of the other man, frozen to the spot. Two steps and he had him.

It was just as good as the first time. He could feel the flesh with his fangs, like he was fucking the man’s neck with his teeth. This one was the customer, his addiction both familiar and strange. No guilt here – the world owed him what pleasure he could take, that bitch was holding out, he had to smack her around to get her to cough up her share...not fair, why couldn’t he’ve gotten high before he died? Not fair...

Leo dropped the corpse. “What the hell?!? What did I just – LaCroix, _**what—?**_”

He saw LaCroix pulling away from the woman’s throat. She moaned, “Don’t stop...!”

“But I must...I’m not here, you see, this isn’t happening. It’s no wonder you’re light-headed, the way you ran. He pulled a gun, and pointed it at your friend, and you ran, you didn’t wait for the shot. You had to run, until you were safe, you _**have**_ to run—”

She took off down the alley, and LaCroix turned back to Leo. “Feeling better, I take it?”

“I feel like I just came. Twice!”

“Glad to hear it. Sorry to rush you, but we have little time. That manhole cover – lift it off, quietly.”

Quietly? It was impossible to lift in the first place...wasn’t it? Was he that strong? He put one finger in the prybar hole and pulled gently, then harder. It came unstuck with a rusty scraping sound – he winced, got his fingers under it, and lifted.

A gallon of milk weighed more! As he set it against the alley wall, LaCroix dropped the drug-dealer’s body next to the hole, took it by the head, and twisted all the way around, twice. When he was done the neck looked like a torn, wrung-out dishtowel. While he was pushing the body into the sewer Leo brought the customer over – the bladder and bowels had let go, so he carried the corpse at arm’s length to avoid the mess.

It seemed simple enough...he twisted the head around, felt the neck break far too easily. Around again and he studied the result. “Does this really cover the bite marks?”

“By itself, no. But combined with rats and rot, it’s usually effective.”

“It wouldn’t be much harder to rip the heads off.”

“True, but best not to – that’s far more likely to make the news.”

“Makes sense.” He started to shove the body down, but LaCroix stopped him and took the wallet.

“Always take the cash, then dispose of the wallet away from the body. Thus, the police will be more likely to suspect robbery.” They heard sirens approaching – not ambulance sirens. “Ah, right on cue.”

Leo finished stuffing the body down and LaCroix replaced the manhole cover. Then, with a flick of his wrist both wallets spun across the street and into the opposite alley, landing in an open dumpster.

“Come, let us away.” He didn’t jump, simply rose into the air. Without thinking, Leo followed. In a couple seconds they hit the cloud cover, a few more after that and they broke through into the brilliant moonlight.

“Holy shit, I’m flying! How the hell—?”

“Try not to think about it – centipede’s dilemma, you understand. We’ll easily make it to Memphis before sunrise, but the airspace over a city can become crowded – the sooner we’re out of Houston, the better.”

They headed north-east. It was a lot more like flying a chopper than a fighter, but different from either – whatever kept them in the sky, it wasn’t air, and that changed everything. But he was flying! Flying naked, no steel around him, like he was dreaming – but he’d never dreamed the way his jacket was billowing and flapping in the wind, or the way his tie danced and snapped.

He did a barrel roll, then another, and grinned at LaCroix. This got him an indulgent smile in return as LaCroix turned face-up and put his hands behind his head, gliding along as if he was moon-bathing on an airborne beach-blanket, the bottom of his trench coat fluttering around his knees.

As they left the city lights behind, LaCroix started with the Code. Over the next few hours he briefed Leo on life as a vampire, till his head was swimming with it. Enforcers, the mysterious Old Ones, carouche – and the changes in both the vampire Community and the Code that happened a decade ago, LaCroix didn’t say why. But everything he **did** say gave Leo the strangest feeling of déjà vu, as if he already knew it. LaCroix explained that too: the essence of a person traveled in the blood. Knowledge, memories, skills – they’d usually fade in a couple hours, but some of what he’d gotten from LaCroix’s blood while he was dying would stay with him forever.

The lights of Memphis were just brightening the horizon when LaCroix stopped. “Enough lecturing for the night. Time to put some of what I’ve told you into practice. That cloud bank,” he said, nodding toward the cumulus to the west of them. “Up for a little hide and seek?”

“You’re on.”

“A hundred count, then.” LaCroix streaked away, and Leo turned his back and started counting. When he got to a hundred he was alone in the sky. He shivered a bit, noticing the cold for the first time.

He should be able to feel him somehow, feel a connection now that LaCroix was his sire. What this was supposed to feel _**like**_, Leo had no idea. He shrugged and headed for the bank of cumulus. Mostly close-packed mediocris, with a bit of congestus piling up in the north.

He skimmed above them, trying to sense the vibration that LaCroix had described. Nothing. Not even his own heartbeat. He dropped down in, and the darkness was as total as if he was still human. The wet air sounded different, but nothing that gave him a clue. Time for instrument flight rules, but he had no instruments to read. What does radar feel like to the plane, anyway?

He felt...something. Like sunlight warm on his skin, but deeper. And it kind of buzzed, really low, like a smug purr...it felt like LaCroix. Leo moved toward it, and it got stronger.

Okay then.

He could just _**find**_ LaCroix, but what fun was that? He climbed, clearing the cloud cover and angling to get over the rise of the congestus LaCroix was hiding in, moving back and forth so he’d seem uncertain. LaCroix would be able to feel Leo as well, if not better, than Leo could feel him, so if this was gonna work it’d take speed. He needed to get above him.

Leo found the spot he wanted and dove into the cloud. The muffled darkness enveloped him but he went faster, homing in on the LaCroix-feeling, pushing himself, faster, faster...!

A split second before the impact he _**knew**_, right _**there**_ – he tackled LaCroix and they went tumbling out of the cloud. “Gotcha!” Leo yelled – and then he bit.

Later he had no idea why he did it – instinct, maybe. Right then all he knew was how good it felt to sink his fangs into LaCroix’s neck, the taste of power in the blood, his heart suddenly pounding with it. And what poured into his mind...this was his friend, prickly and mysterious, he’d known him for years but not like this – the proud self-confidence easily mistaken for arrogance, the fierce dominance itself a duty gladly served, the harsh displeasure when his will was flouted by those who were his – for all he possessed in this life were those of his bloodline, his to guide, to protect, to avenge...there was grief, so many were gone, despite everything he could do, but he took solace in those who remained, and in those newly-raised from the bleating, teaming herd, his latest fledgling, a strong and loyal warrior of both the fields of battle and the halls of power, a bright, fierce night-hawk, if somewhat lacking in proper respect for his elders, since he was currently sucking on his sire’s neck without so much as a _**by-your-leave—**_

Leo pulled away, staring in shock at LaCroix’s wry, golden-eyed annoyance. “Oh. Oh, shit, I’m s—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish before LaCroix struck, fangs digging deep into Leo’s throat and wrenching a choked-off cry from him. Deja-vu again, but he wasn’t human and already dying this time, he _**knew**_ what LaCroix was getting out of this, and it felt so good to pour himself into him. LaCroix’s mouth sucked greedily, and Leo sagged into his grip. Was good, s’good...

When LaCroix pulled away they were on the ground, lying in a razed wheat field. He delicately wiped the blood from each corner of his mouth with a finger and licked it off. “Well, _**that’s**_ better.”

“Mmmmmmmm,” Leo agreed muzzily.

“We’ve still plenty of time till dawn, but best not to dally.” He rose into the air and headed toward Memphis. Leo chuckled, got up and followed him...but he only got a few feet before he fell to the ground again, dizzy. And _**hungry**_.

He looked around. Nothing but an empty field – no, not empty. Against a distant fence were clustered a few nervous cows.

Leo grinned. If LaCroix thought this was worse than the stunts his drill sergeants had pulled during survival training, he had another thing coming.

 

=======================

 

Twenty minutes later Leo caught up with him just outside the city. “You’re right – human blood’s a lot better than cow.

“Oh, Leo – tell me you didn’t.”

“Hey, you left me dry in the middle of a field, what did you expect?”

“There was a perfectly good house not a mile away.”

“The cows were closer.”

“I suppose it’s appropriate, given where we’re staying for the day.” They dropped to a parking lot under an unlit neon cowboy. The sign read “Ernie’s Bar and Grill”, and the door was unlocked.

Some recovering alcoholics were uncomfortable in bars – given his political career, Leo couldn’t afford to be. This close to dawn it wasn’t surprising that it was empty, except for the man behind the bar. “Evenin’, gentlemen. Flying all the way from Houston, you must be thirsty.”

“Especially my young protégé,” said LaCroix, taking the tall beer mug held out to him.

“Yeah, the first few nights can be a bitch. Drink up, son.” The tall, thin vampire calling him “son” looked to be the same age he was, with a graying mustache and hair pulled back in a ponytail. This didn’t stop Leo from taking the proffered beer mug and, despite the cold blood being a bit of a shock, downing it.

“Ahhhhh, that hit the spot!”

“Another?”

“Please!”

Another mug was handed over, and Leo tried to keep from chugging this one. Taking it slower, he could taste...blood donors. More than one, but he couldn’t tell how many, the memories were jumbled and faint. Nowhere near as quiet as cow blood though, all gray grass and herd-herd-herd. He loved the smell of a fresh-cut lawn – as a _**smell**_. It was taking a while to wash the _**taste**_ out of his mouth.

Three mugfulls and he managed it, while Ernie and LaCroix nursed their own and discussed people he didn’t know and issues he couldn’t follow. He hadn’t realized how tired he was.

Ernie took them downstairs, showed them the guestroom, and said good morning. Aside from the tan-painted cinderblock and lack of windows, it looked like a decent hotel room – closet and kitchenette just inside the door, two double-beds, TV, computer under the desk, bathroom door against the back wall. The country‘n’western theme showed in the comfortable cushions and heavy wood furnishings, nothing as tacky as wagon-wheel headboards. The paintings on the wall were both night scenes – a cowboy dozing in front of a dying fire, and a fisherman on a moonlit lake.

“You want the shower first?”

“No thank you, I need to check my blog,” LaCroix said, sitting down at the desk.

The bathroom was well-stocked. Leo brushed his teeth, but it wasn’t till he stripped down that he saw how dirty that much flying had left him. He could smell human sweat thirty feet away, but he hadn’t noticed the fine coating of dust and jet exhaust covering him from head to foot.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to explain the condition of his suit to the dry cleaner. He should probably destroy it instead – this wasn’t the suit he’d died in, but it was one of his own, made to measure. Recognizable. He’d ask LaCroix about new clothes later – there were two thick terrycloth robes on hooks next to the door, and two pairs of boxers on a shelf, the blue-striped ones in his size. That’d do for the night.

He wasn’t one for long showers, but the hot water felt great – he hadn’t realized how badly the flight had chilled him, and the refrigerated blood hadn’t helped. Because he was dead, he guessed. Cold and dead. His heartbeat had stopped again, he hadn’t taken a breath since he’d spoken to LaCroix – he was an undead, reanimated corpse...

He shivered hard, locked his knees to keep from going down, braced his hands on the tiles and leaned into the water, letting it pour over his head and down his face. He opened his mouth to it, rinsing the bitter taste of fear away. He was alive – as alive as a vampire gets, but it was a damned sight better than rotting in a box. He was fine, handling everything his new life threw at him. LaCroix wouldn’t let him down. He took a deep, deliberate breath, and another. Then he turned off the shower and toweled off.

The ventilation in the bathroom was good, there was barely any steam on the mirrors. He studied himself in the full-length one on the back of the door. He’d lost weight since the heart attack – the _**first**_ heart attack – but it had left him badly out of shape, the worst he’d been in his life. Not anymore. He was still a bit stocky, but it was all muscle. His skin was still wrinkled, but without any hint of that crepe-like texture he’d come to hate. He still looked 58, but it was a damned good 58.

He drew himself to attention and felt his back snap straight, perfect. He hadn’t been able to do that in years! He broke and grinned at himself – yeah, he looked good, he felt good, he...yawned. The sun was up, and it was past time for good little vampires to be in bed. And LaCroix was still waiting for his shower. He pulled on his boxers and the robe and went into the bedroom.

LaCroix stepped into the bathroom without a word, but as their shoulders brushed Leo thought he felt a faint pulse of concern. He could’ve imagined it, though. As the shower started again he tossed his clothes over the back of the chair, did the same with his robe, and got in the bed by the door, leaving LaCroix the one closest to the bathroom. A second after his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

 

=======================

 

He woke up slow and lazy, from good dreams – he didn’t remember them, but they’d been nice. He was alone in the room, but the other bed was still made. Vaguely he remembered another body spooned behind him, keeping him warm. Okay, then. He stretched, and considered going back to sleep, but he needed to pee. And after that he’d probably be awake.

LaCroix had warned him, so it didn’t bother him – much – that he was peeing dead black, or how much of it there was. After that he was hungry again. When he left the bathroom, faint but unmistakable, he caught the smell of fresh blood.

He followed it to the kitchenette, where he found a huge two-quart thermos on the counter, with a post-it saying “Breakfast” stuck to it. A little smear of red on the note explained the smell. He opened it, and—

Coffee! There was black coffee mixed in the blood. The thermos had kept it at body temperature, and it was _**delicious.**_ He hadn’t had real coffee in ages – the doctors said the caffeine was bad for him. Did caffeine even effect him anymore? Right then he didn’t care – he felt better just from the taste.

He turned on the TV and found it on the Weather Channel. Partly cloudy, but nearly freezing. Still good flying weather, for vampires anyway. He flipped around till he found CNN – until just then, he’d completely forgotten about the election. He didn’t even know who’d won.

He finished off the thermos and turned to get dressed, but his clothes weren’t over the back of the chair where he’d left them. Instead he found blue jeans and a brown t-shirt with “Ernie’s Bar and Grill” and the neon cowboy printed on it – they both fit. He winced at the t-shirt, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. A new pair of black socks were on top of his loafers. But the prize was a beautiful black leather G-1 bomber jacket. He put it on, and he felt like a kid again.

It was a jacket made to fly in. The mirror showed a man drastically different from the Leo McGarry the world had been seeing for the last few months. Someone who knew him would recognize him, but aside from that...?

“... memorial service for Vice President Elect Leo McGarry...”

They’d won! He turned, and saw Jed with his hand on a flag-draped coffin. He looked terrible, like he’d aged a decade since Leo’d seen him a few days ago. Next shot was the pallbearers carrying the coffin – _**his**_ coffin – down the steps of the church. One of them was Mallory’s David, and following them were Josie, Elizabeth, and Mallory carrying his baby granddaughter . . .

It hit him like a punch to the gut – he’d never see any of them again. His family, all his friends – they thought he was dead.

He didn’t remember leaving the room. The men at the bar didn’t notice him, although Ernie gave him a worried look as he slipped out the back. Then he was in the alley, another stinking alley, with the smell of human sweat coming from behind the closed door overwhelming the garbage.

He took off, straight up, punching through the low cloud cover in seconds. Then he was clear, in the too-bright moonlight, and his face was wet. Mallory, Jed...

It was about half an hour later when LaCroix came up beside him.

“You got any Kleenex?”

Instead, LaCroix handed over a packet of wet wipes. After Leo’d used one, _**then**_ he gave him a pack of Kleenex.

When Leo was finished he stuffed everything into his pockets, and the two of them just floated there for a bit. “It’s just...it’s...”

“Yes. I could tell you it’s best you remain dead to them, but you’ve figured that out for yourself. Or that it will become easier in time, but you already know that. You mourn, as they do. That will have to be enough.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve already said our goodbyes to Ernesto. We should be on our way.”

As they headed to Chicago, Leo said “I wanted to thank him for the clothes, and breakfast – the coffee‘n’blood were great. Do you have his email address?”

“Yes, I’ll give it to you later. Mixing blood with various other drinks is a quite modern practice, but the younger vampires seem to like it.”

“Sounds like you don’t approve.”

“There are subtler ways to achieve such pleasures which are, to my taste, superior. As for the clothes, that’s been taken care of.”

“I know you didn’t pick out the shirt! But the jacket...you knew I’d love it.”

“I’d hoped so.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

“I couldn’t’ve paid him back anyway. I’m broke. I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back.”

“On the contrary, everything is yours for the taking. The accumulation of wealth is a mortal vice, one you’ll find it is now unwise to indulge. Meet your needs, sate yourself on whatever pleasures you desire, and keep yourself unburdened.”

“Mine for the taking. You mean stealing, using that whammy.”

“Is it stealing to milk a cow?”

“Some animal rights activists would say ‘yes’.”

“And were you an animal rights activist?”

“Heh. ‘Fraid not.”

“Very well, then.”

“My family’s back in that ‘herd’.”

“And no vampire will touch them. Nor touch your colleagues, although for a different reason: we do not disturb those critical to, or highly placed in, governmental institutions – not unless they threaten the Community. And then only the least extent necessary.”

“The Code.”

“The Code, even such as it’s become recently. We are immortal, so long as we take a few basic precautions to protect ourselves. Those who threaten that...are dealt with.”

“Did you break that rule, bringing me across?”

“Are you saying my visits ‘disturbed’ you?”

“Every single time! Didn’t say you weren’t welcome.”

“Glad to hear it. However, you and I had a prior relationship, preceding you becoming a political power. Had I abused that...but I didn’t.”

“Why did the Code change? What happened ten years ago?”

“Death came for the deathless. And Life for those who love her, fickle bitch that she is.”

“You came to see me in ninety-seven. You said you’d lost an old friend.”

“Nicolas loved life – too much, in the end. And he hated death with the same passion. It left him hating himself, and all that we are. And you, Leo? Do you hate death?”

Leo suppressed the urge to give the obvious answer, and thought about it. “I hate what it does to people,” he said finally. “Not just to the dying, but to the living. A soldier gets shot down, or a kid dies from cancer – it rips holes in people’s lives. Even me – I’m an old man, but there are a lot of holes back there that I’m not around to fill. A lot of people hurting.” He took a deep breath. “But you don’t get life without death. It’s there for a reason.”

He looked at LaCroix. “From what you’ve told me, a vampire’s an apex predator. We’re top of the food chain – humans aren’t. I’ve seen the research out of Yellowstone – a species with a predator is healthier, more stable, less likely to mess up its environment. Apex predators are crucial to entire ecosystems.”

“Because they weed out the unfit and infirm.”

“When survival’s a footrace, yeah. But I can weed out some of the bastards screwing things up for everyone else, if I want to.”

“To an extent – ‘weed’ too efficiently, and it will become obvious that the deaths are not random happenstance. And you must have no illusions – no one’s perfect, and certainly not such as we. No matter how hard you try to avoid it, eventually you _**will**_ kill an innocent.”

“Because I’m a vampire. And vampires kill people.”

“Yes. Accept this. Or it will destroy you, as it has others before you.”

“Okay.” LaCroix looked at him skeptically. “Hey, it’s not like punching a button! I’ll work on it.”

“Good.”

“In the meantime, back in that alley, when I killed those guys? I want to do that again.”

“And you will. Unfortunately, the time is past when we could do as we pleased and move on. Discretion is the watchword of the day, so first you must learn to drink without killing. Your instinct is to pierce the carotid artery, but bloodflow through the jugular vein is less powerful . . .

They flew on through the night, until the lights of Chicago blazed on the horizon like a sunrise.

 

=======================

 

Leo had never seen Chicago like this. He’d grown up here, but everything had changed so much since then. The last time he’d flown in had been in a jet – he’d barely looked out the window. Now they came in low, avoiding O’Hare’s air traffic lanes, skimming fast over the heady smell of massed humanity.

They were northwest of the Loop when they landed on the roof of an old apartment building on the south side of Wicker Park – Leo recognized it in the air, the triangular shape made it obvious. Not the best neighborhood, but not too bad these days. They didn’t have to break the lock to get into the stairwell; the latch had been superglued open.

They went down to a basement apartment with the words “Come in” fingerpainted on the door, barely visible. When they got close, Leo could smell that they’d been written in watered-down blood.

“Humans can’t see that?”

“No, it’s too faint for them. As it would be for us, had she used any other substance for her ink.”

LaCroix had a key. The living room and kitchen were pretty much one room – on the counter between them was a note: “Guys, I’m gonna be late. Make yourselves at home: good stuff’s in the fridge in the pitchers with the blue lids, guest room’s on the left. Don’t wait up. Alyce.”

There was nothing in the fridge but plastic blood-filled pitchers with blue, green, and pink lids. LaCroix went back to their room to take a shower while Leo filled two tall tumblers from one of the blue-lidded pitchers. He took a swig: donors again, a jumbled mix of incoherent sounds and images. It was a little like walking through the staff bullpen.

He turned on the TV, and flipped through till he found the Weather Channel – it was safer than CNN, but not exactly Must-See-TV. The walls were covered with photos and drawings of various archaeological sites, along with artifacts that looked South American, and two high ground-level windows showing the park across the street. There was nothing specifically feminine, but something about the apartment’s décor said it was a woman’s.

LaCroix came out in a blue and black plaid flannel bathrobe, just as Leo refilled his tumbler – he handed LaCroix his and they clinked their glasses together. “Cheers!” Leo said.

“_Santé._” While Leo drained his glass, at the other end of the kitchen LaCroix opened a slatted door to show a stacked washer/dryer. “I’ll wait till you’ve showered to get our laundry started.”

“Sounds good.”

The guest room had one window, and the curtains were drawn. On impulse Leo checked – it was covered with tinfoil, and the white curtains were thick and opaque. Sunlight, he had to start thinking about sunlight. Even without the precautions, all the windows in the apartment faced north – there shouldn’t be any direct sunlight coming in anyway. The windows in the living room hadn’t been covered, but they’d had the same curtains.

The little bathroom was windowless. He took his shower, put on the red‘n’black plaid flannel bathrobe he found on the back of the door, and grabbed his laundry. He found the washing machine already filling with sudsy water – cold water, he noticed when he shoved his clothes in. In case of blood stains? Everything they’d been wearing were dark colors, probably for the same reason.

“Modern conveniences make slaves of us all.” LaCroix was standing at one of the windows, looking out at the brightening scene.

“You’d rather do it the old-fashioned way, with a tub and a washboard? Or did they beat ‘em on rocks in your day?”

“In my day we’d give them to a slave to wash.”

“Let’s hear it for the ‘good old days’.” Leo went to stand next to him. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but the light hurt his eyes. He squinted, watching the growing traffic and the occasional pair of feet walking by. Then every east-facing surface outside glowed harsh yellow – sunrise. Leo flinched, but LaCroix didn’t move away from the window, so he didn’t either.

“They had their advantages, despite—” Suddenly the light was blinding, burning, like acid thrown in his face – Leo screamed and stumbled back, clawing at his eyes. LaCroix grabbed him and carried him out of the room – a split second later Leo was down on the bed, LaCroix behind him, holding him, his arm across Leo’s mouth. “Drink!” he demanded.

Leo bit down and drank. A couple mouthfuls of LaCroix’s blood and the burning stopped. A few more and he felt okay. He was almost afraid to open his eyes, but when he did he could see fine – and was painfully aware that it felt good, _**really**_ good, to have his fangs in LaCroix’s arm. He pulled them out reluctantly, licked off the last bit of blood, and settled back against him with a relieved sigh.

“Thanks. What _**was**_ that?”

“A beam of sunlight, reflected from the window of a turning car.”

“It hit you too – you all right?” Leo twisted around to look at him.

“I’m quite well. We gain strength as we age – I’m hardly comfortable in it, but I can endure for a few moments before it becomes debilitating. Although it may take centuries for you to reach that point, in as little as a year from now you’ll be able to survive two or three seconds without being blinded.”

“Okay.” They were still lying on the bed, nose-to-nose now, and LaCroix was still holding him close, looking him straight in the eyes. Seemed pretty comfortable, too. Leo would’ve said he was horny as hell if there’d been anything happening between his legs – there wasn’t. His fangs, though...he wanted to kiss LaCroix, kiss him and... he closed his eyes and took a deep, completely useless breath. When he opened them again, LaCroix was still looking at him.

Leo needed to know what was going on, it was that simple. “When I bit you just now, when we bit each other before, that was...it felt like sex. The killing, that did too.”

“I see it’s time we discussed the bats and the mosquitoes.”

“Bats and...please tell me that’s not the vampire version of the birds and the bees!”

A raised eyebrow and quirked lip were all that indicated the affirmative. “Eternity’s a very long time – best to cultivate a sense of humor.”

Leo dropped his head back and groaned.

LaCroix let go of him and knelt up. “Look at me.”

He stripped off his bathrobe. Leo had known plenty of generals who’d let themselves go – LaCroix wasn’t one of them. Smooth planes of muscle lay well-defined under the pale skin. He was uncircumcised, no surprise there. As Leo watched LaCroix’s cock came quickly erect, and a second later just as quickly relaxed.

“It’s no longer a matter of arousal, but of self-control. You’ll find that human-style intercourse still has its pleasures, even though we no longer ejaculate. By now you may have noticed that our revels are unconstrained by the punctuation of an orgasm.”

“Yeah. That’s...never gonna happen again, is it?”

“Have you come away unsatisfied?”

“Hell no!”

“Very well, then.”

Leo knelt up, took LaCroix by the shoulders, and kissed him.

He tasted like blood, more when Leo accidentally scratched his lip on LaCroix’s extended fangs. His own were just as long, and when LaCroix tongued one it almost drove Leo insane, especially once LaCroix pricked himself on it, adding his own blood to the heady mix.

LaCroix broke the kiss, pulled Leo’s bathrobe down so it pinned his arms to his sides, and pushed him down on the bed. He licked Leo’s nipple almost delicately, teasing it into a nub, then set it between teeth and fang. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, he pierced it, sucking at the welling blood.

Leo tried to arch his back, to get more contact with that wicked mouth, but LaCroix held him down. When he started on the other nipple, Leo gasped “Oh god, please!”

“Mmmmm?” LaCroix hummed it against him. “Something you want?”

“Yes! I want — oh god, I don’t know, just — please!”

“How delightfully incoherent. We have all eternity, Leo – surely you can see that patience is a particularly vampiric virtue.”

“C’mon!”

“Very well...”

LaCroix swung his leg over and straddled Leo backwards. Then he pulled open Leo’s bathrobe, and with no more warning than that took Leo’s limp cock in his mouth. Leo flinched, anticipating fangs, but LaCroix was careful. Knew what he was doing, too. Well, Leo had some experience of his own to draw on, and the hard cock hovering above his mouth was a clear invitation.

It wasn’t easy keeping his teeth covered with his fangs extended, but if LaCroix was doing it, that meant it was possible. Leo managed it, working up and down the shaft a few times. Then he sucked on it and was almost overpowered with the urge to bite down – better not try that again! But LaCroix was sucking him – Leo didn’t know how LaCroix could resist the temptation, and got a sinking feeling in his gut at the thought that maybe he wouldn’t. It still felt great, even though Leo hadn’t gotten hard yet...but he wouldn’t, not from just this. LaCroix had said self-control. If he could fly, he could do this, just the same, just...he came erect in LaCroix’s mouth, felt LaCroix hum his satisfaction around him.

Sucking was out. Pumping with one hand while he worked the head with his tongue was a trick he’d learned from Jordan, but his arms were still pinned by the bathrobe. Well, there was a lot he could do with just his mouth. He licked the underside of the shaft up slowly, flicking the base of the head with his tongue, and oh yeah, LaCroix liked that!

But what LaCroix was doing to him – sucking all the way to the root, swallowing around him – Leo was outclassed, and the mind-numbing pleasure couldn’t quite drown out the annoyance. Leo took LaCroix in his mouth again, locked his lips around the shaft, and tried some short strokes while swirling his tongue around the head. He’d just gotten a good rhythm when his fangs scraped along the length – he’d barely had a chance to realize what he’d done when LaCroix did the same to him. He bucked in shock and LaCroix rode it out, keeping them both in place. He was soft again, scared, this was a bad idea, they needed to stop, LaCroix should...

LaCroix still had Leo’s cock in his mouth, and the feeling was unmistakable – LaCroix was _**laughing**_, laughing at him! Leo started to grit his teeth, realizing a split-second too late that he really shouldn’t do that with a cock in his mouth. Blood poured over his tongue and he swallowed, sucking it down, fucking the flesh with his fangs, and none of it could drown out the horrible realization of what LaCroix was almost certainly about to do next.

And he did – LaCroix bit deep into Leo’s cock at the root. Leo screamed and choked, but LaCroix’s body was covering him, keeping him pinned. Terror, ecstasy, the implacable instinct to swallow and swallow, again and again, drinking LaCroix’s pleasure and pain till he couldn’t tell it from his own, because it _**was**_ his own, he was tasting himself in LaCoix’s blood, his own blood, the blood circulating through them both, endlessly...

 

=======================

 

Leo woke, LaCroix lying beside him and snuggling close. Had he really fallen asleep with a cock in his mouth? And his cock in LaCroix’s mouth? He reached down to check – he was fine. Had he passed out? Not from blood loss – he’d gotten as good as he’d given. And what he’d gotten...unfamiliar faces swirled through his mind. A dark blond man, a black-haired woman, others, all pulsing to the bitter whispers of “_gone, lost, dead_”. The blond man...that was Nicolas. He’d looked like a nice enough kid, maybe a little sulky, but the way LaCroix felt about him was a thorny tangle of contradictions. Leo watched LaCroix sleep, breathless, unmoving. _“What happened to them? What happened to you?”_

 

=======================

 

He woke up again after sunset, alone. Someone was moving in the kitchen, and somehow he knew it wasn’t LaCroix. LaCroix was...farther away. Maybe miles away. But the sounds from the kitchen were ordinary: water running in the sink, the clink of a glass.

When he got out of the bathroom he found his clothes on the foot of the bed, minus the Ernie’s Bar and Grill t-shirt – it’d been replaced by one with the Museum Campus Chicago logo on it. In burgundy, thank God; that shade of brown had made him look deader than he already was. But in the mirror he still looked pale. Part of the problem was that he _**was**_ pale, of course. But it wasn’t just that. His skin-tone had changed – he was gonna have to get his colors redone.

Or maybe not. He liked looking his best, but it wasn’t like he was in politics anymore.

The woman in the kitchen had chin-length dark hair and dark eyes, her sharp-edged features more striking than pretty. And she was familiar, in that weird way that meant he’d gotten it from LaCroix. Her name was—

“Good morning! I’m Alyce.”

“I’m Leo. Wait— ‘morning’?”

“I hate saying ‘good evening’, it’s too draculian.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Sorry we missed you last night – how’d you get back in after the sun was up, anyway?”

“Limo service, blacked-out windows, underground parking to shadowed entrance, and a long coat, heavy scarf, gloves, and big hat. It’s a bit tricky, but they’re used to my ‘condition’.”

“What do they think you’ve got?”

“Erythropoietic Variegate Porphyriactic Complex.”

“ ‘Porphyriactic’...as in porphyria? You told them you have _**vampire**_ disease?

“Yeah, a variation of it. Some doctors were hypnotized into believing in it, some ‘research’ was done, and now this ‘rare variant’ is on the books. It can be pretty useful, although it’s a bit dangerous.”

“Why’s it...oh. Yeah, if somebody figures out that everyone with this don’t just _**seem**_ like vampires...”

“Mmm-hmmm – everybody on record as having it would be at risk.”

“Is that really all that likely, though? I mean, c’mon – who believes in vampires these days? That anybody’d listen to, I mean.”

“We still need to be careful – it’d take a lot to out us, but once it’s done it’s done, and we’d all be dead or worse. It used to be you could out-run something like this – not anymore.”

“You sound like you’ve been there.”

“That’s the archaeologist in me talking – I only came across twelve years ago.”

“You drank an archaeologist?”

“Oh, _**very**_ funny! Lets try this again: I’m Dr. Alyce Hunter, with the Field Museum of Natural History.”

“Leo McGarry, I...I’m kinda new at this. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

“And thanks for the t-shirt, I appreciate you getting it for me.”

“Wasn’t any trouble.” She opened the refrigerator. “Have you tried pig blood yet?”

“Cow, yes – pig, no.”

She filled a small juice glass and handed it to him. “LaCroix’s out getting us breakfast, but this’ll take the edge off.”

“Thanks.” If it was as bad as cow blood...he swallowed it down fast, just in case, and was completely unprepared for the flood of flavor and images. Bright sunlight through leaves, the smells of a forest on a crisp fall day, rooting for mushrooms, and an over-all sense that all was right with the world. “Wow!”

“Organic, free-range pig blood. Some people recommend dog or cat, but nothing’s happier than a happy pig.”

“I’ll say!”

“Glad you like it. Your documentation came.” She handed him a fat manila envelope, and he sat down at the kitchen table to look through it. He emptied it and picked up the wallet first, opening it to find his picture next to the name ‘Leonard McGowan’ on an Ontario driver’s license.

“I’m _**Canadian?!?**_”

“No, you’re pretending to be Canadian.”

“Okay, I guess.” He’d been getting used to the idea that he wasn’t human, even that he wasn’t a Democrat anymore. Somehow, until that moment, he hadn’t realized that he was no longer an American.

There was a passport, and a diploma from the University of Toronto – a masters in History with a minor in Communications. A résumé showing a lifetime of management jobs for a variety of small companies, including a few radio stations. A couple of credit cards, each paper-clipped to a statement – no, one was a debit card. A checkbook, showing a balance of a couple thousand dollars.

He wasn’t broke any more. Even after what LaCroix’d said about money, it made him feel better to have at least _**some**_ assets. He checked the wallet again and found thirty-two dollars and change, in mixed bills.

“A lot of work went into this,” he said, putting the cards into the wallet. “Don’t I owe somebody for it?”

“The Community works on a loose barter system. Later you’ll be asked to help set up identities, and there are a few other things we all pitch in with. This,” she indicated the paperwork, “is just to get you through the next few years. There are specialists who coordinate this kind of thing – Felix is the one in Toronto. Next time you move on, he’ll be able to tailor it to pretty much whatever you want.

“He did a pretty good job _**this**_ time. I’ve just never done anything like changing my whole identity before. You know what it’s like.”

“Actually, I don’t. When LaCroix brought me across, Felix managed to convince everyone that my death was a clerical error, so I’m still myself – for a while, anyway. No, wait – that was Aristotle, not Felix. Anyway, I can probably make it last a few more years before people start asking me what moisturizer I use.”

“LaCroix’s okay with that?”

“He wasn’t particularly happy about it, but needs must. He’d just been staked and badly burned, and we had to get out of Toronto. I did everything, finding us a place to live, bringing him blood – I couldn’t’ve done it if I’d had to change identities at the same time.”

Burned...he remembered the shock of a stake through the chest, fire all around, Nicolas’ almost-human eyes – “Remember that you killed me,” and Nicolas’ mind accepting the command as no vampire’s should.

Leo shook it off. “That must’ve been rough.”

“I’ve always been the ‘do it yourself’ type – we managed okay.”

“So why’d you – I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t ask.”

“Why did I become a vampire? You read vampire stories?”

“Sometimes. I know better than to believe ‘em.”

“Good. Because it wasn’t some great romance, or a limitless thirst for the power to enthrall any mortal I desired, or anything like that. I wanted to live long enough to watch what I’ve spent my life learning about actually happening. And LaCroix...well, right then LaCroix wanted to make a point.”

“That’s it? I mean—”

“That’s it. I’d known Nick a couple days, didn’t know LaCroix at all – a few hours later I’m a vampire, Nick thinks LaCroix’s dead and the Community’s taking care of me, and LaCroix and I are on the run. You’ve known him a while, though. When’d you two meet?”

“Vietnam.”

“You’ve been friends since Vietnam?”

“Friendship came later. Right then, it was more of a mutually reluctant decision not to kill each other.”

She snorted. “Well, _**that**_ sounds familiar. What happened?”

“It was 1970, and I was flying a med-evac chopper off the border. We were short-handed and under-supplied, which is why I didn’t have a corpsman or morphine. It’s also why I was tapped for it – I wasn’t quite rated for chopper yet, but nobody else was available.”

So I’m halfway to the MASH when something makes me look over my shoulder, and there’s LaCroix with his fangs in the neck of one of the guys. I’d seen enough horror movies to know what to do – I swung the chopper around to get sunlight through the windshield, and that pinned him up against the roof in the back. Then I pulled my crucifix out of my shirt and held it up.”

He tried to whammy me, but it didn’t work. Which left us in a stalemate: I couldn’t keep flying and holding him off at the same time, and he didn’t want to cause a crash in broad daylight. He was just trying to get away from the carpet bombing and the napalm, so when I said I’d get him to the MASH and keep him out of the sun if he’d use his mesmerism to keep the wounded comfortable — and not kill anybody — he agreed.”

“And he left you alive after that?!?”

“Didn’t give him much choice. I landed with sunlight in the cockpit, then tossed him a body bag. He had about three seconds to get into it before they unloaded. Wounded went to triage, body bag went to a nice dark morgue, and as soon as I was refueled I got out of there. Was a few years before I saw him again – maybe he figured if I hadn’t told anybody up till then, I wasn’t going to.”

“He should’ve killed you!”

“C’mon—”

“Killed you or brought you across. The Code was really strict back then – he took a terrible risk.”

“He asked if I wanted to be a vampire – I had a fiancée; I said no.”

“Still—”

“Why did the Code change? What happened?”

“What did LaCroix tell you?”

“Just that it happened in ninety-seven. I think it has something to do with Nicolas – doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it.”

“I’m not surprised. Look, how much do you know about Nick?”

“Not much – LaCroix’s problem child, dead now.”

“Oh, he’s not dead! Not yet, anyway.”

“But LaCroix’s—” _mourning him_, but Leo didn’t say it. Revealing something he knew just from LaCroix’s blood...if LaCroix did that to him, he’d be pretty damned pissed.

“He’s human again – we can do that now, that’s why the Code changed.”

“How’d _**that**_ happen?”

“Nick had been trying to find a way for centuries. Then he met this coroner, Doctor Lambert, and they started working on it together. When the Fever hit, it was Lambert who found the cure for it.”

“Drinking HIV-positive blood.”

“Yeah. After that everybody knew what had happened, and that there was a mortal who knew about us, but the Enforcers didn’t do anything.”

“They didn’t say why?”

“They usually don’t. But it was such a terrible time – maybe half the vampires in the world died, more in Toronto. I think the Enforcers just had their hands full. Then a few months later the two of them were trying something they thought would help Nick, it went wrong, and LaCroix ended up bringing Lambert across.”

“That’s all it took? With the Enforcers, I mean.”

“That’s it – no more threat, no more problem. Except the coroner didn’t like being a vampire either.”

“So then he’s working on a cure for both of ‘em.”

“Who? Oh, no! _**She**_ – Doctor _**Natalie**_ Lambert.”

“So then _**she’s**_ working on a cure for both of ‘em?”

“Yeah, and she found it – turns out vampirism is caused by a photophobic retrovirus, but most of the effects come from the way it leaves your body vulnerable to your unconscious mind.”

“You’re saying I can fly because I _**believe**_ I can?”

“It’s more that you can fly because _**LaCroix**_ believes you can – he fed that certainty to you with his blood, so now _**you**_ believe it. And he got it from his master, who go it from his, et cetera.”

“The hippies and the new-agers were right – go figure.”

“We still don’t know where the energy we’re using for it comes from, but don’t count on it being from some higher power. The whole holy-symbol aversion thing’s not part of it any more than anything else – it’s just in your head.”

“I haven’t seen a cross yet, not since I died. Is it really that bad?”

“I’ve got one, if you’d like to take a look.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

The box she took off the shelf was covered in celtic knotwork which, now that Leo thought about it, was out of place among the Meso-American and other Pre-Columbian pieces. She propped up one end on a stack of napkins and said “You should stand back a bit – otherwise you might break the chair.”

He got up and stepped back. Alyce moved behind the box so she wouldn’t be able to see inside it when she opened the lid. A split-second later Leo’s back was against the wall, his arms thrown up to shield his face.

He tried to look at it, but couldn’t – it wasn’t bright or hot, but it felt as dangerous as a loose blowtorch with the malevolence of a sounding rattlesnake. He knew it wasn’t, though – he’d have to be less than a foot away from it before it could really hurt him. He told himself that a few times, but he still couldn’t make himself look.

“You want to try closing it?”

“Hell no!”

And then it was gone – the box was closed, LaCroix’s hand on the lid. Leo hadn’t heard him come in. “Now children, I expect you to play nicely while I’m away.”

“He started it!” “She started it!” they blurted out simultaneously, then grinned at each other as LaCroix rolled his eyes.

“And here I’ve gone to all this trouble to bring you a special treat. But if you can’t sit down politely like good little boys and girls...”

Leo blurred into his chair, hands folded in front of him, his best “butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth” expression on his face. He beat Alyce only because she’d gotten glasses for them first. That cross was only inches away from him, but with the box closed it didn’t bother him at all. Strange.

LaCroix had two of those stainless two-quart thermoses with him. As he poured, he said “We can still indulge in mortal pleasures, without anything as crude as mixing in lesser beverages.” He handed a tall glass to Leo. “I believe you’ll find this to your taste.”

Leo drank – breakfast! It wasn’t just the flavors in the blood, but the strongest of the memories was of breakfast. Pancakes drowning in butter and syrup, cheese omelet, sausages, and cup after cup of coffee. Even a glass of tomato juice. A truck stop, breakfast twenty-four/seven, sunset through the windows.

LaCroix poured him another glassful. It was amazing how clear the memories were, like Leo was right there, packing it away like a truck driver. Had the guy donated blood right after this? LaCroix topped off his glass. Maybe a bloodmobile in the parking lot? Leo wasn’t getting anything like that – there’d been a blond in the parking lot, a bombshell, looking back at him with a grin and walking away across a side street. And the memories of other women, crying, beaten, then finally quiet and limp as dishrags...

Leo couldn’t tell what’d happened next, but this guy was a real bastard. Liked his breakfasts, though. Leo hadn’t had eggs and sausage since before his heart attack, and if there was one thing you could get at a truck stop it was a good breakfast. His glass was full again so he drank, and he could taste it all in the blood. It was all in the blood.

He emptied the glass. LaCroix and Alyce were just finishing theirs – now that he thought about it, he’d had about twice as much as either of them. “Sorry for being such a greedy-guts, but that really was good.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Your appetite will settle down eventually – given your age and poor health when I brought you across, it can take longer to recover. And of course exertions such as flying cross-country take their toll.”

“How much blood do we usually need, anyway?”

Alyce said “It depends. I can drain someone and go a week without getting hungry again – not that anyone does _**that**_ anymore!”

“However,” LaCroix said, “for most a quart a day is plenty. And now, I’m afraid we must be going. Alyce, thank you for your hospitality.”

She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t be such a stranger, okay? Toronto’s not that far from here. You too,” she said to Leo with a hug, “If you need a change of scenery, stop by for a visit.”

 

=======================

 

Leo expected them to head up to the roof, but instead LaCroix led them out back. Parked on the street was a powder-blue 1962 Cadillac convertible, top up, in beautiful condition. Not original condition, though – LaCroix pointed his key-fob at it and the engine started. The sound almost overpowered the click of the doors unlocking.

As Leo got in the passenger seat, he realized he was starting to take the déjà vu for granted – he remembered this car. LaCroix turned right, right again and the street sign said North Avenue, although Leo didn’t recognize the area. That didn’t mean much, though – it didn’t take long for a street to change, to get covered in trendy shops or, in this case, sports bars. They had to be pretty close to the highway from the I-90 / I-94 signs.

They hit a stoplight, and LaCroix said “Do you remember what I told you about how to drink without killing?”

“Sure, why?”

“Because the time’s come to put that knowledge into practice. Alyce tells me this street’s favored by the local evening ladies, although if you find their patrons more to your taste, feel free. Whomever you choose, you must leave them strong enough to stand and walk, and remembering nothing that endangers us. If you have trouble, say my name.”

“Got it, thanks.” He got out of the car and started walking down the sidewalk as LaCroix drove past him. He wasn’t hungry, which was probably why LaCroix wanted him to try this now. It took about a block for him to figure out the setup: the girls trolled in front of the bars, then took their customers to cars parked back out of the way.

Whatever it cost, it was probably more than the thirty in his wallet. Well, in for a penny...Leo grinned and waved at a man coming toward him, as if he recognized an old friend. “Hey, buddy! Good to see you!”

The guy was heavyset, balding, and nowhere near as suspicious as he should be behind his uncertain smile. Leo could hear his breathing, practically feel his heartbeat – by the time he reached him he had a lock on the guy’s mind, he could just tell. “I’m new in town – how much do the girls charge for a blowjob?”

“Fifty, usually.”

“Great – can you spare that?”

“Sure.” He got out his wallet and handed Leo the money like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Thanks! Oh, you need to forget about me – but remember you’re fifty bucks shy, okay?”

“Okay.”

They went their separate ways. That’d been easy – now all he needed to do was pick out a girl. The last time he’d done this was ‘Nam, he was a little out of practice. What did he...oh.

She was just inside the alley, grabbing a smoke in the shadows, but Leo could see her just fine. Older than the other girls, red hair over salt‘n’pepper roots – Leo leaned on the corner of the building, keeping himself in the light. “Sorry to bother you on your break, but—”

“Oh, Honey! No bother at all!” She dropped her cigarette, he offered his arm, and she led him to her car, a blue SUV parked down the alley. By the time she had him settled in the back he almost had her. But only almost – behind the friendly poise was caution honed sharp by years on the street.

“Okay, Honey – what’s your pleasure?”

“Uh, blowjob?”

She glanced at his tented crotch and back up with a flirty smile. “Well, my favorite! Put forty in the cupholder there, and—” she flicked a gold-foil packet between her fingers “—condom’s included.”

Once the money was in the cupholder she relaxed a bit, and he had her. He took her by the shoulders and nuzzled her neck, overriding her faint protests with reassurances murmured against her skin. So warm, she smelled so good, her life pulsing just under her skin...pulsing through her carotid...that meant the jugular was _**here**_, right? Deeper, thinner, where...he was in, swallowing the blood down, sucking gently, oh-so-rich, tough as nails, two daughters in high school, everything for them, her flesh alive around his fangs...alive...oh, god...he pulled his fangs out, held his tongue against the punctures till the blood clotted. She whimpered when he turned away from her throat. Resting his head on her shoulder, he shuddered. If he’d been hungry...

“You got any water?” he asked her. She reached behind the seat and held up a plastic bottle. “Drink it, all of it. Then get something to eat. And forget me, forget this happened.” He shoved an extra twenty into the cupholder and left.

They were all around him as he walked down the sidewalk, practically steaming with life in the night air, and he...he’d done it. He’d done it! It’d been close, but she was fine, he’d gotten it right first damn time! Oh yeah! He felt so good he was walking on air – he looked down quick at that thought, just to check. Feet firmly on the ground, just a little spring in his step.

He spotted the caddy in the parking lot of a Home Depot, LaCroix in the passenger seat. He got in and grinned at LaCroix’s smug smile. “You letting me drive?”

“You’ve certainly earned it. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, thank you.” He’d’ve taken bows if he’d had room. As it was, he started up the car and headed for the highway. “Toronto?”

“Toronto – best speed, please. We should get home with a couple hours to spare.”

LaCroix had a laptop open, and a cellphone – they must have been in the trunk. Leo had gotten them on the highway and heading out of Chicago before LaCroix got them to link up. “Your blog again?”

“The price of fame. My fans are relentless, sucking maws of voracious, insatiable need – they’re the true vampires, Leo.”

“Do I want to know what a vampire’s doing with a blog?”

“Part of the job these days. I’m a late-night radio show host, but it’s not just radio anymore.”

“That’s your day job?” LaCroix gave him a sidelong look. “Hey, you just said ‘these _**days**_’, don’t give me that!” A shrug was the only concession he got. “I guess I’m gonna need one. How’m I gonna do that if I can’t interview during business hours? Whammy somebody into giving it to me?”

“Yes, although it’s best if it’s a position you’re reasonably well-qualified for – actually _**doing**_ a job is easier than continually mesmerizing everyone into _**believing**_ you’re doing a job. Speaking of which, would you consider a position as the night-manager of a small radio station?”

“Your radio station?” The résumé, the minor in Communications – yeah, the fix was in.

“It would make life simpler for us to be working in the same place – although actually, I broadcast from a booth in my nightclub a block away.”

“You own a nightclub?”

“And live in it. There are frequently other vampires sheltering there, but for the moment it’s just the two of us.”

“A nightclub. You _**do**_ remember I’m an alcoholic, right?”

“_**Were**_ an alcoholic. You’ve but one addiction now – a ‘drinking problem’ of a different sort.”

“You don’t...” he was driving, he had to pay attention to the road. There was no cure for alcoholism – once you were an alcoholic, it was for life. For life.

And he’d died. He’d died, but...“Really? You’re sure?”

“Quite sure. I’ll pour you a double myself when we get home – I’ll have to mix some blood in for you to get it down, but the simple fact is that you’re no longer vulnerable to toxins. That includes alcohol.”

_**Not human**_ had been a given, he’d understood that the first time LaCroix’d offered. Not a Democrat, not American, not an alcoholic, not Leo McGarry...what was left? Strip away all that, and who was he, really?

He’d have to figure it out. He’d have plenty of time! Night-manager had to be a pretty low-stress job after what he’d been doing. And he had a place to stay – LaCroix’d taken care of everything. From his blood, Leo understood why, a little bit anyway. One way or the other, LaCroix’d lost most of his vampiric family, practically had his world destroyed. But the Fever had hit only a decade ago, and LaCroix’d been after him since...huh...

“The more I think about it, the more I have to wonder: why am I still alive?”

“It was only a few nights ago – how quickly they forget.”

“I mean before that. I told Alyce about how we met – when you caught up with me a few years later, you were supposed to kill me. Why didn’t you?”

“I nearly did.”

“You’re kidding! Okay, you’re not kidding. But...really?”

“You might recall the bottle of Scotch I brought along, to celebrate our re-acquaintance.”

Leo smiled. “Johnnie Walker Gold – hard to forget.”

“And yet you’ve forgotten how the evening ended.”

“You’ve never been able to whammy me!”

“Not while you were sober, no. Hence my ‘gift’. Intoxication makes some vulnerable, and once you had imbibed a sufficient amount...so did I.”

“You got me drunk and – no, _**I**_ got me drunk. But you date-raped me!?!”

“ ‘Date-rape’ – it’s appalling the language people come up with. But yes, although it was twenty years or so before the term was coined, it’s accurate enough.”

“How often that happen?”

“Until you gave up liquor, every time we met, or nearly.”

“So I was just a convenient suck.”

“Hardly. Aside from the frequent _**in**_convenience of visiting you, I can assure you that I’m not in the habit of offering immortality to my every dalliance.”

“Alyce?”

LaCroix shrugged. “Accidents happen.”

“I’m no accident. You asked me, and you kept asking me. For years. You came all the way down to Houston just to give me one last chance. Okay – why? Why me?”

“The first night I drank your blood, I intended it to be the last – to take my pleasure and do my duty in one stroke. What I tasted in you...was worthy of more than just one night. Or one lifetime.”

“Gee, you’re making me blush.”

“You can’t blush. The qualities that make a vampire who can outlast centuries – these are rare. You have them.”

“Not back in my twenties, I didn’t.”

“You did, _en potentia_, and the challenges of your mortal life have nurtured them. You’re hardly a paragon of vampiric virtue, but we’ll work on that.”

“So what does it take to be a ‘paragon of vampiric virtue’?”

“That you now possess? _Joie de vivre. Joie du massacre._ Loyalty to your own. Self-confidence. The ability to endure what one must, and take advantage of what one can. That you lack? The capacity to kill without remorse.”

“Last two days I’ve slept just fine.”

“And if, that first night, you’d killed the woman?”

“_**You**_ didn’t.”

“Because two bodies were easier to dispose of than three, and the story she’ll tell provides cover. Otherwise, I’d have drained her without the slightest qualm. This troubles you.”

“We’ve been friends a long time. I knew what you were, and I knew what that meant. I’ve never given you grief about it – I’m not gonna start now.”

“Glad to hear it, but I’m not the subject of our discussion.”

“You’ve been coddling me.”

“Have I?”

“You took us down that alley – you picked a drug dealer for my first kill. There was plenty of room down that manhole – you didn’t kill the woman because I’d get upset. Every bottle of blood I’ve touched came from donors – that can’t be the only source of our blood supply. And the truck driver you drained for our breakfast was a serial killer.”

“You’re certain I killed him?”

“You walked in with four quarts of his blood. You saying he’s still alive?”

“No, that was sufficient to kill. He had nearly six quarts in him – the last of it helped secure local assistance.”

“A heart can’t pump out _**all**_ of somebody’s blood. How’d you do it?”

“We rendered him unconscious, brought him to a nearby warehouse, suspended him by his ankles, and cut his throat.”

“He never knew what hit him.”

“No.”

“You did it that way so there wouldn’t be any taste of his death in the blood.”

“Yes.”

“But you haven’t been coddling me in any way.”

“Perhaps I have been. Perhaps I have cause. The prostitute you drank from tonight – you didn’t kill her.”

“I thought that was the point!”

“If you _**had**_ killed her, would you have been disappointed in yourself for failing in your first attempt, or guilt-wracked over taking an innocent woman’s life?” He read the answer on Leo’s face. “I’d long believed that full immersion was the only way to baptize a newly-turned vampire. This served me well in most instances. Other times...it did not.” Leo thought of Nicolas – was that why...? “And so I’ve chosen to ease your entry into the harsher realities of vampiric life. If I’m mistaken in this, hopefully I’ll have a chance to apologize to you before my errors bring about your destruction.”

“If it comes to that, I doubt you’ll have time – you wanna apologize, do it now!”

With no little sarcasm, LaCroix said, “I’m so very sorry, Leo, for failing in my attempt to give you eternal life.”

Leo snarled, but...none of this was LaCroix’s fault. He sat back and sighed, deflated. “S’okay, you’re doing your best. Sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass about it. I’m just...” he didn’t know how to say it.

“Impatient with being almost as a child again after living a man’s life. Eager to explore the opportunities now available to you. And, perhaps, just a little frightened of what you must become.”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing that troubles you need be faced alone. If the width of the world were between us, still I could find you – should you find yourself in need, there’s little that would prevent me from reaching your side.”

“Thanks. That means a lot. I...okay, I know this is gonna sound corny, but I won’t let you down.”

“Of this, I have no doubt.”

“And I won’t go back to being human. Not sure I could, with a heart attack waiting for me, but I’m not even gonna try.”

“Did Alyce tell you this was now possible, or did you remember it?”

“A little of both. This car – it was Nick’s, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. No longer his style, it seems. Now he drives an SUV, complete with steel safety cage. For the sake of the children, you understand.”

Ouch. “Those kids wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for you. He’d’ve died hundreds of years ago.”

“That’s quite comforting.”

“No it’s not.”

“No, it’s not.”

“How long—” Leo stopped, considering what LaCroix’d said, what Leo ‘remembered’, what Alyce had said, the scattered pieces he was fitting together, maybe the right way, maybe not. Maybe this was too personal, but...LaCroix’d said he could ask anything. “How long ago did you realize you were losing Nick?”

“Long before you were born.”

“Is that why you were trying to bring me across, even back in the seventies?”

“Is poor Nicolas the only one you’re remembering?”

“No, but...on most of them I didn’t really get much. There was a lady, dark hair, really elegant—”

“Janette. And the ones you can’t remember clearly, if you had to number them...?”

“I dunno – over a dozen, at least.”

“Over a hundred, at least. Some I brought across by accident, some on a whim. Some, such as you, were carefully chosen. Some barely lasted out the year, others over a thousand. Nicolas, Janette, and I traveled together for centuries, off and on.”

“Centuries...how old are you?”

“One thousand, nine hundred, and twenty seven. I was brought across during the destruction of Pompeii.”

“You’re a _**Roman?!?**_”

“I am.”

“Say something in Latin!”

“_Aliquid in matris lingua._”

It was different than the way Jed would say something like that – but Jed had told him he spoke Latin with a New Hampshire accent, that nobody knew how it was really supposed to sound anymore. But LaCroix knew. LaCroix’d learned it at his mother’s knee.

“Say something else in Latin.”

“_Nonnullus alius res in meus lingua._”

“That’s just...mind-boggling! I know it shouldn’t be, but...wow.”

“Perhaps I should recite some poetry for you? Or would you prefer a political discourse?”

“No, that’s okay. It’s just – you’re a Roman. I never would’ve guessed.”

“Nor should you have. That life is past, and long past.”

What Jed wouldn’t give to hear LaCroix speaking the way the Romans did! But...he’d never know. Did LaCroix have friends back in the ashes of Pompeii? Did he have family back there? Maybe some of the plaster casts of the people who’d slowly choked to death on volcanic fumes were people he’d known. People he’d loved. Had he ever gone back to look?

Leo felt a shiver crawl up his spine. What LaCroix’d been telling him, about giving up his old life...he must really know what he was talking about. Leo’s friends, his family, they were still alive...but in less than a century they wouldn’t be. What had happened to LaCroix in one terrible day, Leo’d be going through for years. Was distancing himself really gonna make it any easier? Would anything?

They’d left Lake Michigan far behind, the traffic dying with distance and time. Past the city lights, the cloudy sky was as black as Leo’s mood had gotten. He’d agreed to this, to becoming a vampire – had that been a mistake? If he hadn’t done it, he’d be dead right now. _**That**_ was the only other option – he wouldn’t be back in Washington where he belonged, ramping up for the inauguration with Josh and Beth and Matt. He’d be in Arlington, six feet under. With men who’d died honorably. And stayed dead.

He hadn’t.

Instead, he found himself sneaking into Canada under an assumed name. He was a two-thousand year old vampire’s rebound fuck, for God’s sake! How the hell’d _**that**_ happened?

“We weren’t lovers.”

“What?”

“Nicolas and I. You’re hardly my first, true, but you needn’t be jealous of him.”

LaCroix’s words triggered a memory: horrible chest-pain, lips locked on Nicolas’ wrist, Nicolas’ posture the picture of distaste, Nicolas’ blood singing bitter triumph. Leo shook it off. Not lovers, no. Then he realized – what he’d just been thinking, he hadn’t said any of it out loud.

“Are you reading my mind???”

“I can sometimes hear your thoughts, especially when you’re practically shouting them.”

“Great. That just you, or am I an open book to every vampire out there?”

“Primarily between us. To a much lesser extent, between you and your siblings.”

Leo bit back the explosion – LaCroix wasn’t holding out, there simply hadn’t been time for him to tell Leo everything yet. He was just in a bad mood. Not that he didn’t have good reason, but this was a bit much.

“Maybe it was someone you ate?”

And _**that**_ could get really old, really quick. The truck driver? Then LaCroix’d be feeling it too, right? Well, turn-about was fair play – he tried to “listen” to the man beside him. How would he know the difference between what was from LaCroix and what was just him? Maybe if it was quieter inside his _**own**_ skull, he’d have better luck. Leo focused on the road, on driving, let it take all his attention. Nothing but that...and pride, his protégé was doing quite well. An echo of...relief? He’d been worried, it had come down to the last possible second, but he’d done it, he’d saved Leo. Others, some with the strength of centuries, had fallen to the Fever. Some had fallen to despair. But now this one sat by his side.

Leo pulled himself back and turned to see LaCroix looking back at him. He’d hidden nothing from him, that’d been...Leo got himself back on track. LaCroix wasn’t feeling like Leo was, so it wasn’t the truck driver’s blood. The prostitute? What had he gotten from her? Work was okay, kids were doing great...but she’d had a fight with the oldest, wanted to go to a party, she’d said no, kid’d said “I hate you”. She’d done _**everything**_ for her, and...yeah, that’d do it.

“Is it always gonna be like this, feeling like—” _you feel_ “—they feel?”

“You’ll always be able to, but in time you’ll learn not to let it control you.”

“And the mind-reading thing? Not that I don’t trust you, but...”

“It’s possible to cloak your thoughts – I’ll teach you.”

“ ‘Kay, thanks.”

“However, what’s in the blood...is as it is. There’s no disguising anything there, no way to hide.”

LaCroix was keeping nothing from him. Could he do less? “That’s not a problem.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

It was past midnight, but the traffic was picking up – the signs said “Port Huron”. And “Canadian Border”. Leo dug his wallet out of his pocket and put it on the seat. “My passport’s in that envelope.”

“I’ll get it.”

It didn’t take long to get through the line. Leo handed over their documentation. “Nothing to declare.”

“Was your trip business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure, visiting family.” True enough – Alyce was his sister now.

“How are they doing?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Always good to hear.” He handed everything back. “Welcome back, gentlemen.”

Now the signs said “Toronto 292 km”. About three hours. LaCroix went back to his blog, and Leo enjoyed the drive. It really was a great old car, solid even to a vampire’s hands. The cloud cover had cleared, the moon was up, and it was a beautiful night. A good night to be alive, and Leo put no caveats on that thought.

Soon they were rounding Lake Ontario – not long after that they were heading into Toronto. Leo’d never been there before. As cities go, it was a lot like Chicago – better drivers, maybe. Following LaCroix’s directions, they came into an older industrial area, and parked under a sign that said “The Raven.”

Inside was...not what Leo’d expected. Not empty, but at almost five in the morning the crowd was definitely thinning out. The music was loud, and both it and the décor were...techno? Like a science fiction movie, lots of black plastic and dark metal. No grunge, though. Definitely not what the sign outside had led him to expect, which was something a bit more Edgar Allen Poe.

Leo sat at the bar while LaCroix got behind it, pouring each of them a shot of Johnny Walker Gold, neat, then topping it off with blood from a wine bottle. They raised their glasses and clinked them together. “_Salve nostrus domus._ Welcome home, Leo.”

“Thanks – cheers!” He took a sip and the flavor was everything he remembered, but...that was it. There was no hit from it. It was oddly disorienting, to go from “I choose to never feel that way again” to “I can’t ever feel that way again”. And a bit of a relief. He’d missed this, the taste of smoke and peat, the weight of a heavy-bottomed glass in his hand, the pleasure of a drink with a friend.

Yeah, maybe he’d just traded one addiction for another. But there were plenty of people living with food addiction – he could too. He grinned at LaCroix and finished his drink.

 

=======================

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Latin translations:
> 
> Aliquid in matris lingua: Something in Latin. More literally, something in the mother tongue.
> 
> Nonnullus alius res in meus lingua: Something else in Latin. More literally, some other thing in my language.
> 
> Salve nostrus domus: Be well/strong in our home.


End file.
